BENTLEYS' BLOG
37 & 38
Bentley's Blog ... 37
First - for a publicity stunt they put us in a shop window - (well its smart to be a dummy) -
and then we end up freezing our nuts off on the South Downs playing Take me I'm Yours
to Ace Photographer Danny Clifford and a couple of sheep - then - despite our major
contribution to the arts - they (who is they?) send us to play at a Cricket Club in Harrow -
where Simon Hanson beats his drums with some cricket stumps - we play a revamped
version Bang Bang which is quite surreal as it still contains Gilson's original backing
vocals - but before the song is over I find myself on a twelve hour flight to LA (that's
Littlehampton with added smog) - I watched The Iron Lady on the fuzzy miniature TV
screen courtesy of Virgin Airlines - and then fell into an uncomfortable sleep - when we
arrived at our hotel in Beverley Hills I was feeling a bit peckish - so I order Jambalaya - but
when it arrives there's no file a Gumbo - so I project myself into the future - staggering
onstage at the House of Blues in San Diego - but there's no Blues at the Inn - still dealing
in illusion and delusion - we Carry On our journey to the Coach House in San Huan - which
is kinda like a retro English Music Hall - then just when l thought l had it all figured out - we
had to get inline at the local dole office to get US Social Security Numbers - why? oh why?
oh why? - who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? - (ha ha ha) - the Shadow
Knows! - and it's at this point in the story that I start drinking again ...
DEATH IN VEGAS ...
next thing I know - I wake up in Vegas - lose all my money in a crap game (well it wasn't really all that bad) - it seems that the latest thing to do in Vegas - if you haven't got a job - is to get yourself a cat with sunglasses - now there's a beggar with a cardboard sign that says "need money for pot" I think he'll have to get himself a new message if he intends to get any serious contributions - in the evening there's no gig - so we decide to take a cab to a restaurant called Giovannis which was featured on Man Versus Food - after a 45 minute Magical Mystery Tour of Vegas we reach our destination only to discover that its all boarded up - apparently quite a few establishments shut down after being visited by Adam Richman - the cabbie gets new instructions to take us to another restaurant - but there's a Communication Breakdown - and the meter - which is still ticking - has already clocked up $110 - eventually we reach our final eating solution - sitting round the table I find myself stuck in between a politician and an economist - I decide to make a quick exit - and go in search of Ricks Pawn Shop so that I can get some sense (dollars and cents) out of Chumly - the pawn shop explodes - and I find myself in an elevator with three Japanese businessmen and a hooker - the hooker asks me if I want company - I tell her that she'll never be able to afford it - I open the door to my hotel room and there's John Entwistle lying on the bed unconscious - so I go and sit on the loo - from where I can see all the hustlers and gamblers strolling up and down 'the strip' bathed in dazzling neon - I try to imagine what it would be like to never lose at Black Jack - and then I take a dump - they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas - well I should jolly well hope so after all that shit!
to be continued ...
next thing I know - I wake up in Vegas - lose all my money in a crap game (well it wasn't really all that bad) - it seems that the latest thing to do in Vegas - if you haven't got a job - is to get yourself a cat with sunglasses - now there's a beggar with a cardboard sign that says "need money for pot" I think he'll have to get himself a new message if he intends to get any serious contributions - in the evening there's no gig - so we decide to take a cab to a restaurant called Giovannis which was featured on Man Versus Food - after a 45 minute Magical Mystery Tour of Vegas we reach our destination only to discover that its all boarded up - apparently quite a few establishments shut down after being visited by Adam Richman - the cabbie gets new instructions to take us to another restaurant - but there's a Communication Breakdown - and the meter - which is still ticking - has already clocked up $110 - eventually we reach our final eating solution - sitting round the table I find myself stuck in between a politician and an economist - I decide to make a quick exit - and go in search of Ricks Pawn Shop so that I can get some sense (dollars and cents) out of Chumly - the pawn shop explodes - and I find myself in an elevator with three Japanese businessmen and a hooker - the hooker asks me if I want company - I tell her that she'll never be able to afford it - I open the door to my hotel room and there's John Entwistle lying on the bed unconscious - so I go and sit on the loo - from where I can see all the hustlers and gamblers strolling up and down 'the strip' bathed in dazzling neon - I try to imagine what it would be like to never lose at Black Jack - and then I take a dump - they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas - well I should jolly well hope so after all that shit!
to be continued ...
Bentley's Blog .... 38
means never having to say you're sorry ...
means never having to say you're sorry ...
line up at the Mojave stage at Coachella
3 days of pie and chips
(3 days of love and peace in case you didn't understand my pathetic punning)
The long and winding road - bah baaa bah baaa - from Las Vegas to Palm Springs is a rollacoaster ride across a desert - for sure no Romans ever set foot in this country - if they had the road would at least be straight - I arrive at my destination - Coachella - feeling a bit all at sea - backstage in the artistes arena I have a chat with the singer from Pure Filth Sound - he is giving me a steaming rap about his gig - I ask him about his style - he replies "we play one sixty" - is he talking BPM? - I say "yeah man we used to play one sixty but now we're all about one sixty five" and I hold out my fist street wise - then I am treated to a Hip Hand shake of the Highest Horder - worthy of a Jim Bowen 321 - I speed off to our gig in the massive Mojave shed in a souped up buggy driven by the Stig- we overtake Noel Gallager at 100 mph - and he crashes into a palm tree - the air is thick with dust and exhaust fumes - its like the Friday night Bombay rush hour - that one way system's terrible innit? - the gig is streamed on the internet - but I miss it as I have a previous engagement - next thing I know I am on another white knuckle ride aboard the Bombay Buggy- I tip off as we rocket over a sleeping policeman - so I now have no choice other than to take my life in my own hands by walking through the audience arena - now I'm shaking yes I'm shaking- but everything's so cool at Coachella - the groovy young things are remarkably well behaved and beautiful to boot - so I booted one - yowch! - Who's That? - none other than Kasabian - so I watch and listen and learn - nice hair!
(3 days of love and peace in case you didn't understand my pathetic punning)
The long and winding road - bah baaa bah baaa - from Las Vegas to Palm Springs is a rollacoaster ride across a desert - for sure no Romans ever set foot in this country - if they had the road would at least be straight - I arrive at my destination - Coachella - feeling a bit all at sea - backstage in the artistes arena I have a chat with the singer from Pure Filth Sound - he is giving me a steaming rap about his gig - I ask him about his style - he replies "we play one sixty" - is he talking BPM? - I say "yeah man we used to play one sixty but now we're all about one sixty five" and I hold out my fist street wise - then I am treated to a Hip Hand shake of the Highest Horder - worthy of a Jim Bowen 321 - I speed off to our gig in the massive Mojave shed in a souped up buggy driven by the Stig- we overtake Noel Gallager at 100 mph - and he crashes into a palm tree - the air is thick with dust and exhaust fumes - its like the Friday night Bombay rush hour - that one way system's terrible innit? - the gig is streamed on the internet - but I miss it as I have a previous engagement - next thing I know I am on another white knuckle ride aboard the Bombay Buggy- I tip off as we rocket over a sleeping policeman - so I now have no choice other than to take my life in my own hands by walking through the audience arena - now I'm shaking yes I'm shaking- but everything's so cool at Coachella - the groovy young things are remarkably well behaved and beautiful to boot - so I booted one - yowch! - Who's That? - none other than Kasabian - so I watch and listen and learn - nice hair!
Coachella Revellers - dig those crazy palm trees baby!
DESOLATION ROW
Waking up in Pheonix is like waking up from a pleasant dream into a nightmare of Hellish proportions - I have to take a hike to finish some unfinished business - everybody on the street looks like a homeless person with a drug problem - so why doesn't anybody want to mug me please? - is it because they think I'm a homeless person too? - l look like a vagrant - hurrah! - I try to find my way back to the bus - oh no I'm lost in Arizona - but where is Arizona? (I hear you ask) - it's floating down the river with a knot in it - escaping from the street I find some air conditioned space backstage at the venue - Chris Difford arrives as bright as a button for the soundcheck having just driven for 8 hours straight - "he is not of this world" - the gig at the Crescent Ballroom is simply smashing - but Diff has left the building for another drivIng marathon - and I have to use my time machine to keep up with him - fast forward to Beverly Hills - ahhh - Civilisation Ho! - it's a day off and coincidently its my birthday - so I take a fantasy ride to Laurel Canyon and hang out with Joni Mitchell & Grahame Nash.
to be discontinued ...
Waking up in Pheonix is like waking up from a pleasant dream into a nightmare of Hellish proportions - I have to take a hike to finish some unfinished business - everybody on the street looks like a homeless person with a drug problem - so why doesn't anybody want to mug me please? - is it because they think I'm a homeless person too? - l look like a vagrant - hurrah! - I try to find my way back to the bus - oh no I'm lost in Arizona - but where is Arizona? (I hear you ask) - it's floating down the river with a knot in it - escaping from the street I find some air conditioned space backstage at the venue - Chris Difford arrives as bright as a button for the soundcheck having just driven for 8 hours straight - "he is not of this world" - the gig at the Crescent Ballroom is simply smashing - but Diff has left the building for another drivIng marathon - and I have to use my time machine to keep up with him - fast forward to Beverly Hills - ahhh - Civilisation Ho! - it's a day off and coincidently its my birthday - so I take a fantasy ride to Laurel Canyon and hang out with Joni Mitchell & Grahame Nash.
to be discontinued ...
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?
ha ha ha ...
ha ha ha ...
Back on the Beat ...
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